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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29853828">Bad End</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumbly/pseuds/bumbly'>bumbly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Face-Fucking, Humiliation, Incest, Manipulation, Mind Break, Multi, Selfcest, Trans Character, ultimate dirk being an asshole</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:53:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,317</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29853828</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumbly/pseuds/bumbly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate ending to Dirk's Pesterquest route. Mind the tags.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dave Strider/Dirk Strider, Dave Strider/Dirk Strider/Ultimate Dirk Strider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bad End</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i originally wanted to call this triple d or diners, drive-ins, and dirks, because their names all start with d. uh. you're welcome for not doing that! </p><p>both dirks are trans, but only ultimate dirk has physically transitioned. dirk's genitalia is referred to with traditionally feminine words. also, it's not tagged because it only comes up once or twice, but there are references to bro's abuse of dave. </p><p>have fun!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="main">Alright, so here’s the thing. While sparing your eyes from orange text certainly isn’t going to get me a Heroic judgment at the end of the day, I’d say it’s pretty fuckin’ considerate of me, and unfortunately, I have a limited amount of generally tolerable things I can do in a day. Which is to say that while it was pretty magnanimous of me to leave younger Dirk, a scruffy looking Dave from an irrevocably stupid timeline, and some weird ass flat guy alone to talk, my patience is wearing just a little thin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I mean, seriously, what the fuck do they need to discuss? Dirk wants to play the game, keep shit in line, not deal with whatever absurd timeline the little dude’s going to pull him down. If Dave hadn’t been brought into the equation, it would’ve been a no brainer, but now things are a little more complicated, I guess. Especially for this kid, ‘cause I know for a fact that his Daddy issues are taking the wheel - just like Jesus, only I also know for a fact that they’re much worse drivers.</span>
</p><p><span class="main">I kick my feet up onto my desk, sending a few loose papers flying off and onto the ground, and stare pensively out of the window. Space rushes by in a view I’m pretty used to, and I’m struck with the realization that there’s no way that this version of Dirk is going to choose to play the game. Sure, another one will, in a divergent timeline, but right now all I can feel at my metanarrative fingertips is the sleeping-limb feeling of an offshoot timeline that’s about to break away.</span> </p><p>
  <span class="main">Well, that’s fuckin’ great. I lean back in my chair with a sigh and am almost resigned to giving up when something in Dirk and Dave’s conversation catches my attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I turn my full attention back to them and realize that the thing that grabbed me was silence. Dave doesn’t do silence, is the thing, and Dirk’s not exactly partial to it either. I’m curious about its cause for the less than a second it takes me to find it: they’re just … looking at each other, closer than they were when I left, and the little friendsimp is nowhere to be seen. Well. It looks like Daddy issues are in fact at the wheel, Freud’s in the passenger seat, and I suddenly have a much better idea of how to spend my afternoon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I’m back on the rooftop of Dirk’s apartment in moments. Dirk and Dave both jump just a bit when they notice me, although Dirk makes a better attempt at hiding it. Oh, this is going to be fun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“New plan,” I say. “Forget us all going our separate ways to fix shit. Dirk, you’re coming with me. And you know what, you too, Dave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Wait, wh-” Dave starts, but before he can finish, </span>
  <span class="stupid">we’re back on the <i>Theseus.</i></span>
  <span class="main"> Not in my office, of course, but in one of the spare bedrooms I’ve optimistically left open for opportunities like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“What the fuck?” Dave says. “Dude, seriously, you said you were going to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“I got bored, thought of a better option,” I say, leaning back against the wall and folding my arms. God, but they’re both so pretty when they’re scared like this. Even with his shades, I can tell that Dirk is scanning his surroundings, trying to deal with both the idea of being in one of the first places outside of his apartment that he’s ever been and the fact that his fight or flight reflex is going haywire, and Dave is just trying to decide whether to be scared of the Bro splinters in me or to try and talk to the weaker ones, the ones like the Dirk he knew. “Do you have a problem with that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Care to share what your ‘better option’ is?” Dirk asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I smirk at him as I push my weight off of the wall and walk over to him. As I get closer, Dave tenses like he’s thinking about trying to stop me. That’s objectively hilarious, and I’d laugh about it if I was more inclined to do things like that. He hasn’t picked up a sword in years, doesn’t even have one in his sylladex, and most importantly, he freezes when I hold an outstretched hand up in his direction. It’s not a surprise - I know I cut a more familiar silhouette than any of the other Dirks Dave’s met during and since the game - but I appreciate the way it lets me focus on Dirk right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I step into him, so close that he’s forced to take a half-step back, and grab his chin roughly, tilting his head up so that we’re looking at each other through matching shades for a single moment before I rip his off and send them clattering to the floor. I’ll admit, I’m impressed by the way he doesn’t flinch. The only signs that anything happened at all are the sudden tension in his jaw and the way his pulse speeds up under my fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Me and your brother over there are going to fuckin’ <i>ruin</i> you, kid.”  (Yeah, yeah, I know my grammar isn't spot-on. Take it up with someone that cares/is willing to put themselves behind this shitty, slouching excuse for Dave Strider in any way.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“What the fuck?” Dave says. He’s still not moving from his spot just a few feet away, but he starts gesturing with his hands as he speaks. “Seriously, what the fuck? Other than the fact that that was some cryptic shit, like, I mean, I’m <i>hoping</i> that it was cryptic shit because I’m not ready to make this little family reunion thing all, y’know, Folgers commercial or whatever, but what the fuck? Let’s just talk this out like, I dunno, normal people? Can we do that? We’ve got two - okay, well, not well-adjusted, I’m not gonna go that far, but we’ve got two adults in the room, we don’t have to, like, get crazy, uh, y’know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I wait for him to fall quiet again, trailing off into silence as he starts to realize that I mean exactly what I said, then turn my focus back to Dirk. He hasn’t said a word. Huh. Interesting. He doesn’t know what to do, or rather and more importantly, he doesn’t know if I mean what I said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Cat got your tongue?” I ask him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk’s poker face is slipping. I can’t wait to completely destroy it. “Uh,” he says, his eyes darting anywhere and everywhere but the dark, reflective surface of my shades, “I mean, I left my katana back-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Cue my anime villain laugh. It’s the quiet kind, more Shigaraki than Yagami, and I revel in the sharp inhale Dirk takes at the sound. He’s funny in denial, especially when I can tell by his eyes that he doesn’t believe the story he’s telling himself for a second. “Not what I mean and you know it. Strip.” Dirk casts a scared glance at Dave, but <span class="stupid">Dave isn’t going anywhere, not until I tell him to.</span><span> “Don’t worry, he’ll join in soon enough. Now don’t make me repeat myself.” </span>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="main">I let go of Dirk’s chin and step back just far enough to let him actually do as I’ve ordered - not narratively, mind you, this is just talking. Everything he’s doing is completely of his own free will (coercion notwithstanding, like that would count for anything anyway). </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk is still for a moment, then, slowly, his hands reach for his jeans button. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Dude, you don’t have to listen to him,” Dave says, “this is clearly fucked, can you, like, I dunno, get your little zappy buddy back in here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I laugh again. “Dave, you must’ve gotten a lot stupider than I thought if you think I would just leave this place open to intruders. No one’s getting in, and no one’s getting out. We’re in the middle of space, and if you’ll excuse the trite turn of phrase, I’m the only one that can hear you scream. Well, me and pipsqueak over here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk’s face flushes at the name. He’s clearly fighting to keep his expression blank, but his cheeks are bright red and his eyes are wide and scared, darting around like they’ll land on some miraculous, nonexistent way out. His hands are frozen on the button of his jeans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Did I say stop?” I ask him. “Listen, this is going pretty fuckin’ smoothly by most accounts, and I don’t think you want to find out how it’ll be if you stop listening.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“This is fucked,” Dave says, observantly. “Dirk, seriously - kid Dirk, I mean, and hey, have we talked about that? He’s, what, fifteen? Is that right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk nods. He’s fidgeting with the button now, sliding it in and out of the hole - yes, intentional phrasing - and I have to admit, there’s a part of me that’s more than a little disappointed in the complete lack of a fight he’s putting up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“See, he’s fucking <i>fifteen</i>! You can’t tell me that’s not fucked. Look, kid Dirk, what’s the worst he can do? You don’t have to listen to him, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk casts a glance at me, then looks back at Dave. “I want to agree with you,” he starts carefully. To anyone else, he’d sound like he was doing a good job of hiding the waver in his voice, but I can hear it plain as motherfucking day. “But you don’t know me like I know me. I - He wouldn’t do this if he thought he would lose, and I mean, he’s clearly not weak. Like, can you even move right now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“... No,” Dave admits. “But-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Nope,” I interrupt. “Kid’s right. There’s not any way that either of you are getting out of this, and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">It’s my turn to be interrupted now, this time by a small but surprisingly dense weight knocking into my side. My katana’s in my hand in moments, and Dirk’s on the floor a second later, looking somewhere between shell-shocked and pissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Not a bad try,” I admit. “I almost didn’t see it coming, but unfortunately, now we’re gonna have to do this the other way, aren’t we?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="stupid">Dirk doesn’t move from his spot on the floor</span>
  <span class="main"> as I flashstep over to Dave. I slap him across the face before he even realizes how close I am to him, so hard that his head snaps to the side and his hands fly up to cover his cheek as he gasps. Dirk makes a small noise of shock that goes directly to my dick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Alright, so if one of you doesn’t listen, the other one gets it. Cool?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Neither Dirk nor Dave say anything. Dirk still looks shocked, and Dave looks halfway between anger and a PTSD flashback. Okay, that’s less than ideal, but he’ll get over it soon enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Cool,” I say. “Dirk, get the fuck up and strip.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I loosen my narrative hold over Dirk - once again, this is all him - and watch with a satisfied smirk as he stands on unsteady feet and unbuttons his jeans. Dave mutters something about this being, and I quote, “bullshit,” but my younger self is the one getting my attention now. I can’t believe how many parts of me used to be as small as he is, as <i>fragile</i>, even with the muscle he works so hard to build under his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">He takes his skinny jeans and bright orange boxers off with much more ease than I’d expected of him, but he doesn’t meet my eyes when I drag them back up to his face. He’s watching the floor, one hand hovering just a little bit below his bellybutton like that’ll do anything to preserve his “modesty” or whatever the fuck. It’s cute, in a way, but not as cute as the way his fingers shake just a bit as his free hand grasps the hem of his shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Go on,” I say, half encouragement and half warning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Can’t watch this shit,” Dave mumbles. He turns away, and I let him, for now. Now he can’t say I never did anything nice for him, especially with the amazing fucking gift he’s about to get.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk swallows audibly and takes his shirt off, tossing it onto the ground next to his pants and quickly returning his hands to their place over his crotch. He’s even smaller than I thought, to the point where I can see the outline of each one of his ribs below the hem of his binder, and while I’m a master of self-control, it takes some effort to not knock him to the ground and take him <i>now.</i> But he’s not done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I clear my throat, relishing in the way that both Dirk and Dave flinch at the sound. It’s almost pathetic how easy it’s been to get them to this state - just a few narrative interferences and one slap, and they’re both wrapped around my little finger. Well. I’m not exactly complaining. “The binder too,” I tell Dirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">He gives me a look that I might describe as ‘betrayed.’ Kid probably expected me to let it be, since I’m trans too and all, but come on. We both know ourselves too well to know that he’s not going to get any sort of leeway from me, not here and not now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk stands absolutely still for a moment, then pulls his face back into the best impression of someone that doesn’t care that he can currently manage and tugs his binder off. He immediately brings one arm up to wrap over his tits, and I immediately step forward and push it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Don’t move,” I order, tightening my grip on his wrist so that he knows I mean business, in case that he’s still trying to find reasons to doubt the reality of his situation. “Got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“C’mon, use your words.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“... Got it,” Dirk says. He’s still not meeting my eyes, his gaze landing somewhere over my shoulder but carefully avoiding Dave’s turned back as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Good,” I say. I drop his wrist and grab his pretty little tits, one in each hand, squeezing until a whimper escapes from behind his clenched teeth. “I know what you’ve got goin’ on up in that brain and all, but I’ve gotta say, I’m glad I stepped in when I did, huh? Be a damn shame to lose these.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk fidgets, shifts his weight from one foot to the next, keeps avoiding my eyes, but he doesn’t move. Honestly, every moment of this is just proving to be better and better validation for my choices today. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I rub my thumb across one of his nipples, and Dirk squeaks. I keep forgetting that I’m one of the first people to ever touch him at all and that I’m definitely the first person to touch him like <i>this</i>. “Feels pretty good, doesn’t it?” I ask him. “Answer me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“It’s fine,” Dirk says quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I arch an eyebrow, shift my hand and pinch one of his nipples between my thumb and forefinger, tight, until another one of those little whimpers slips out. “Don’t lie to me, or you’re not going to like what I do to Dave. How does it feel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk squirms for a moment, like he’s trying to figure out if he can get away from me, but then he bites his lip and says, “It’s … good. Feels good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Good,” I say, sliding my hands down his sides, one resting on his waist to hold him steady and the other slipping between his legs. He makes a soft, almost surprised sound when I push his little lips apart with my fingers, and I laugh under my breath. He’s fucking wet. “Well, aren’t you just a little whore? What part of this is doing it for you?” I ask. “Is it me? Dave? The fact that you’re completely fuckin’ helpless to anything and everything I want to do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“None of it,” Dirk snaps. He presses his legs together, but all that does is push my hand up against his cunt more, and his next sentence starts with a moan. “<i>Ah</i>, I - I don’t fucking want this, I don’t want to be here with you or with, with Dave, and-” He cuts himself off, face flushing an even brighter red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I <i>tsk</i> quietly. “What did I say about lying to me?” I say, and then, as Dirk’s eyes widen in fear, I put my hands on his shoulders and push him to the ground, stepping forward and planting my foot on the center of his chest as soon as he hits the floor. Behind me, Dave makes a noise of protest - meaning that he turned back to look, in case you missed that implication-, but he’s still not going anywhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Pretty good view, huh?” I say, half-turning around so that Dave can’t pretend that he doesn’t know my words are directed at him. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn in a moment.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I’ll admit that Dirk was doing an almost acceptable job of staying silent and stoic earlier, but those barriers are starting to break. “Wait, no,” he says, looking up at me with wide, panicked eyes, “No, I can - you’re me, right, but he’s - that’s my, our <i>brother</i>-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“One. What, are you going to stop me? And Two. Yeah, I know. Don’t pretend it’s never crossed your mind.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk shuts his mouth and directs his gaze to the ceiling, away from both me and Dave. His eyes are glassy and unfocused, and I put a bit more of my weight on his chest to bring them back to me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Don’t think you can just zone out of this,” I tell him. “In fact, you actually get to make a choice now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk is close to legitimately begging now. I can see the mental calculations he’s running, a cost-benefit analysis of what it’s going to take for him to get out of this, if, y’know, getting out of this was a thing that was possible. I’ve gotta say, though, even with the walls I’ve already destroyed, I’m almost impressed by how long he’s holding out. I half-expected him to have completely broken down by now. That’s more Dave’s style than ours, though, and it just means that shattering my stupid younger self is going to be that much better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“What is it?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I smirk at him, push my foot a little more forcefully into his chest just to watch the way he has to struggle to pull in his next breath. “Who gets your pretty little cunt and who gets your mouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dave makes another indignant noise. He’s getting a bit annoying, but I remind myself that killing him now would be much less entertaining than everything else I have planned and turn back to Dirk. “Well, what’s it going to be? You’re not going to like what happens to your brother over there if you don’t make a choice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Uh,” Dirk says, “can I - wait, how - you?“</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I know what he’s asking. “Made some modifications,” I say, running my hand along the bulge my cock’s currently making in my pants. “It’s pretty easy when you’re in control of literally everything. Hell, if it wouldn’t be my loss, I might consider doing the same for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk’s jaw visibly clenches, and he closes his eyes. I push down on his chest for a second, and they fly open once more. “You’re not getting out of this. Make a choice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“I…” Dirk’s voice trails off. His eyes dart to Dave, then back to me, then back to Dave again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“This shouldn’t be rocket science,” I say. “You should be grateful I’m giving you the choice at all. We could always both fit into your ass if you really can’t make up your mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Some of the bright red flush decorating Dirk’s cheeks disappear as he pales, just a bit. “Dave, then,” he mutters. His voice carries perfectly well in the silent room, but I tilt my head to the side like I didn’t hear him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“What was that? Gotta speak up, Dirk.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">The look he gives me is a poor attempt at defiance. “I said Dave,” he repeats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Yeah, that’s his name, but that’s not a choice. Where do you want your brother to fuck you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Behind me, Dave makes a soft sound. Dirk’s eyes flick towards him, then away. “... My cunt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Almost there, why don’t you make that a full sentence for me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">The glare Dirk aims at me is, honestly, pathetic, though that might have something to do with the way the pressure I’m putting on his chest is making his eyes well up and his breaths come short. I give it a moment, watching him, letting Dave watch him, then ease up on the pressure just enough for him to be able to speak clearly. “I…” he starts, and his voice is choked, “I want Dave to fuck my cunt.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I’ll admit, it’s not the answer that I was expecting. My best guess is because he doesn’t want to have to look his big brother in the face while they fuck. Well, too bad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Hear that, Dave?” I say. “Sounds like it’s your lucky day.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dave is silent. Dirk’s chest jerks under my foot, and when I look down, prepared to stop another useless escape attempt, I realize that he’s crying. “I can’t believe that you think you’re me when you’re this pathetic,” I tell him. “Not that I don’t get off on it, but it’s just fuckin’ ridiculous.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Sorry that I haven’t erased my ability to feel emotions or whatever,” Dirk snaps. Well, he <i>tries</i> to snap, but the effect is ruined by the hitched breaths he forces the words out around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Nice comeback, you get that from a Hot Topic shirt?” I ask, and then, because banter is really not what I’m here for, I step off of Dirk’s chest, reach down and grab him by his hair, and yank him back to his feet. “Get on the bed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk yelps when I yank on his hair, but he complies with nothing more than another pisspoor attempt at an intimidating glare. To be fair, it’s kind of impossible to be intimidating when you’re naked and fifteen, but come on. He’s a Strider. I thought I could expect more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Once he’s sitting on the bed, I use his hair to pull him down so that he’s lying on his back, his little tits on display and his head half hanging over the edge of the bed. I let go of his hair, and there’s a split second where his eyes dart to Dave, and I <i>know</i> that he’s about to make a break for it. Well. That’s fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Before Dirk can get anywhere, I flashstep over to Dave and wrap my hand around his neck, squeezing just enough for him to know that I mean business. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Hey!” Dirk exclaims, sitting up on his elbows, but I hold up my free hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“You remember what I said, right? You don’t listen, and Dave gets it. If I were you, I’d give up on trying to escape, it’s not like it’s gonna happen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dave makes a pathetic and stupidly hot choking noise, squirming in my grip until Dirk lies back down and I let him go. He’s panting heavily now, curling in on himself in a useless attempt to get away from me. His movements are familiar to a good number of my splinters: he’s shaking but trying his best to control it, avoiding eye contact and - </span>
</p><p><span class="main">“Drop the shades,” I tell him. Almost like he’s moving on autopilot, he does, tucking them onto the collar of his shirt with an unsteady hand, and there it is, that fear that he’s never been able to hide. </span><span class="stupid">I allow him to move again,</span><span class="main"> then order him to get his pants off.</span> </p><p>
  <span class="main">“I don’t-” Dave says, glancing rapidly between me and Dirk. “I don’t want to - why are you bringing me into this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Maybe because I’m generous, or maybe because I want to see how much I can break you two, or maybe both. It’s anyone’s guess, but either way, listening to me is in your - and Dirk’s - best interest.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk speaks up then, quietly. “Don’t worry about me. Don’t let him hold me over your head like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I snort. It’s a nice thought, sure, but I’ve never met a Dave Strider that’s not self-sacrificing to the point of death. Just to prove my point, I don’t even need to toss in another threat before Dave is saying, “It’s okay, you’ll be okay, alright?” and taking off his pants and boxers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“See how smoothly things go when y’all listen?” I say. “Dave. Get yourself hard.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dave makes a small noise in the back of his throat that’s echoed by Dirk. Ha. They’re cute together, aren’t they? Two brothers that, technically, just met, and yet they’re already so willing to take each other’s falls. There are plenty of splinters in me that understand that feeling, but the ones that don’t conveniently bring my familial empathy to a clean zero. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">But enough monologuing. Dave’s spitting in his hand and wrapping it loosely around his dick, studiously looking at the floor as he runs his hand up and down himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“You watching this, Dirk?” I ask. “Y’know, he’s bigger than I thought, that’s not gonna be good in your little virgin cunt. Not that I’d be any better, but … I’m just saying.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk stubbornly doesn’t respond. I look back over at Dave and see that he’s not making much progress, which isn’t a surprise, necessarily, but it’s frustrating. Sure, I could step in, but I’m trying to use a delicate narrative hand here, okay? It’s so much better when they’re doing this shit themselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Dave, need some help?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Consciously or not, Dave’s hand speeds up. He’s probably chafing, which I’d care about it if I wasn’t me. “‘M fine,” he mutters. I’ll take that as a yes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I reach out and take Dave by his free wrist, tugging him over so that he’s standing at the side of the bed, his thighs inches away from Dirk’s feet. “Don’t move, alright? Me and your little brother are going to give you a show, and don’t you even think about trying to tell me you don’t want it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dave looks away, but that’s alright for now. I know for a fact that he’s nowhere near as strong-willed as he thinks. Dirk, on the other hand… </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">When I turn to face him, he looks terrified. He’s managed to school his facial expression into something that <i>might</i> have been able to pass as stoic if he didn’t have tears rolling down his cheeks, but his eyes give his emotions away completely. “Spread your legs, kid,” I tell him. “Trust me, you’re gonna like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">For a moment, Dirk looks like he’s about to speak, but then his jaw tightens and I assume he’s committing himself to the silent game. I’ve got him scared into compliance, though, so he doesn’t resist when I grab his ankles and pull his legs apart, exposing his sopping wet cunt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“You watching, Dave?” I ask. He’s not, but he’s half-hard. I’m not surprised. For someone that threw his life away for his childhood friend because he was too much of a pussy to actually put out or confess to anyone that he actually loved, Dave Strider’s pretty fuckin’ easy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Without further ado, ‘cause even I recognize that the monologuing is a waste of time when I’ve got this scared kid laid out for me, I climb up onto the bed and straddle Dirk’s stomach, giving myself perfect access and him no way to see what’s going on. In a shocking turn of events, I do have other things to do today, so I don’t waste any time with teasing touches before rubbing right over Dirk’s clit. Perks of being Ultimate: I know exactly what I like, even though my equipment’s changed, and my knowledge proves good when Dirk’s breath hitches on a wet, high-pitched sound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Go on, don’t hold back, we’re putting on a show, remember?” I say. I use my free hand to nudge his thighs apart a little more, and then I run two fingers right over Dirk’s entrance, keeping steady, rhythmic pressure on his clit with my thumb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk whimpers, his hips trying to jerk up under my weight and his hands fisting into the sheets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“That’s it,” I praise him. “You want my fingers inside?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“I - <i>no</i>, ah-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I tease at his hole again, putting a little more pressure this time, and when I glance up at Dave, he’s watching my fingers work with wide eyes and a hard cock. Like I said: nowhere near as strong-willed as he thinks. “Be honest, Dirk. Do you want me to open up your tight little cunt? I could always leave you perfectly tight for Dave, if that’s what you <i>really</i> want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“No, no, I-” Dirk stops, swallows, makes an attempt to compose himself that I sabotage with a sudden pinch at his clit. “<i>H-Ah,</i> fuck, no, fine, I want you to, to, put your fingers in, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I give Dave a conspiratorial smile. When he sees me looking at him, his cheeks flush bright red and he looks away from Dirk. “Ah, ah, you don’t have to be embarrassed, Dave. This is for you, remember? Look all you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk tenses under me, and his legs twitch like he’s trying to close them. Yeah, not so fast. I push them just a little further apart, almost to what feels like Dirk’s limit, not looking away from Dave as I do. “And since this is for you,” I continue, “I’ll be nice enough to let you pick. Do you want to watch me open Dirk up, or do you want to fuck him when he’s still all good and tight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">The look on Dave’s face is fucking gorgeous. He looks absolutely torn: does he admit how much he’s enjoying this, somewhere behind the layer of guilt and repression that he’s been putting up for years, or does he save himself some plausible deniability and risk hurting Dirk? I already have a good guess as to what he’s going to pick - self-sacrificing, remember - but watching him struggle is <i>delicious.</i> </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Open him up,” Dave finally says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk inhales shakily and lets his breath out all at once. “Look at that,” i coo at him, running my hands over his thighs so that he knows I’m talking to him. “Big bro’s looking out for you. And looking <i>at</i> you, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you were getting off on that. I mean, you’re not this wet for nothing, are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dave opens his mouth, like he’s going to offer some sort of defense on Dirk’s behalf, but when I look up at him, sharp as the knife me and the kid under me named ourselves for, he shuts it again. I give him one more little smirk, then make a show of tracing my hands along the soft, vulnerable skin of Dirk’s inner thighs, slowly, making him twitch and tense until I finally reach his pussy and slide two fingers inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">The sound Dirk makes is nothing short of gorgeous. His hips jerk again, and he tenses around me like he’s trying to get my fingers out. “Stay still,” I say, using my free hand to push down on his thigh with more force than is strictly necessary as I start to finger fuck him properly. He’s tight, even with how wet he is, and I can’t tell if the sounds he’s making are out of pain or pleasure - not that it matters either way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">After a few minutes, once it seems like Dirk’s getting used to the feeling, I yank my fingers out and wipe them off on Dirk’s thigh. “Anything to say, Dirk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Silence - well, except for Dave’s heavy breathing. He’s holding onto his dick with a grip that looks on the edge of painful, face red and eyes darting back and forth between the floor and Dirk’s cunt like that’ll hide the way he’s looking at his little brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Dirk,” I say firmly. “Basic manners.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">The answer comes so quietly that I almost miss it, but it’s unmistakably there: “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Goddamn, who knew that humiliating this kid would be so much fun? I don’t acknowledge Dirk or his words as I get up and off of the bed, stepping next to Dave and twisting my hand into his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him yelp before I let it go. “Alright, your turn,” I tell him. “Just like this. Go on.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Now, like I said earlier, I’m fairly confident (read: absolutely sure) that Dirk only picked Dave to fuck his little pussy so that he would have the chance of not having to look at his brother. And like I said earlier, too bad. There’s no way for Dirk or Dave to avoid the other’s identity as Dave steps forward, unable to tear his gaze away from Dirk, and lines his dick up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“I’m sorry,” he says, softly, like he’s trying to keep me from hearing it. “I’m only - I don’t want to know what he’ll do to you if I don’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Well, hooray for half-truths. Dirk swallows and murmurs, “I know. It’s … just get it over with, dude, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dave nods, looking beyond words, and squeezes his eyes shut as he pushes in. The sound Dirk makes is one that I’ll be jerking off to the memory of for a long time, no matter how narcissistic that may be, even though it almost covers up Dave’s quiet groan. They stay almost still for a moment, Dave’s chest heaving and Dirk’s fingers anxiously twisting in the fabric of the sheets, but then Dave takes a deep breath and starts to move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I let Dave mumble choked apologies for a bit before making him quiet, just in case he crosses the line between making Dirk uncomfortable with his attempts at comfort, since they serve as a reminder of who they are to each other, and actually comforting him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">For a long collection of moments, the only sounds in the room are Dave’s unsteady breathing, the rhythmic creak of the bedsprings - added by yours truly just to make the situation inescapable for all of the senses -, and bitten off noises that sound like controlled sobs from Dirk - but then Dirk shifts, his hips moving just the slightest bit off the bed, and the next sound that leaves his mouth is a moan. He tries to stifle it immediately, of course, but whatever new angle they’ve found must be good, and it’s followed up by another, then another, and I don’t think I have to spell any more out for you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Look at you,” I say, stepping over to the bed and fisting my hand in Dirk’s hair, tilting his head back so that he’s forced to look up at me. “Getting fucked by your brother and loving it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">He doesn’t respond. I get it; he doesn’t want to give me the satisfaction. I might be mad about it if it weren’t for the way tears are sliding down his cheeks in earnest as he whimpers and gasps or the way Dave is starting to make quiet, embarrassed sounds under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Come on, Dave, don’t be shy,” I coax. <span class="stupid">He looks up at me,</span><span class="main"> hate and fear mixing together on his face, his hands twisting into the sheets just inches away from Dirk’s, but he doesn’t stop thrusting. It’s the best I’ve ever seen him look. “It’s not like you can tell me that you don’t like this, can you? That there’s not even the smallest part of you that’s not silently thanking me for the way I handed him to you on a silver platter?” </span>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="main">“Fuck you,” Dave says. It’s not a denial, of course, and I know that Dirk realizes as such at the same time as me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Hear that, Dirk?” I say. “Trust me, I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a liar. And I haven’t done anything to change how Dave feels.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I watch Dirk’s throat work as he swallows, watch his eyes carefully try to meet Dave’s. Dave stares directly down at Dirk’s chest and refuses to look up. “Dave?” Dirk says, so quietly, and honestly, these two make it so easy. I don’t have anything to do with the way that Dave stays silent or the way that that tells Dirk everything he needs to know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">With that lying as heavy as the sex-scented air between them, I step forward and grab Dirk by the hair again, this time pulling him towards me so that his head is hanging over the side. The shift in angle when Dave moves to catch up - without even a hint of my guidance, by the way - has Dirk’s mouth falling open, and my cock is in his mouth before he can think to close it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk chokes, unsurprisingly. I’m not small by any metric, and I waste no time in shoving as far down his warm, convulsing throat as I can. It feels fucking <i>amazing</i>. Dave’s thrusts rock Dirk back and forth on my cock, and my younger self has correctly realized that the best thing for him to do right now is to go limp and let himself be used.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk looks absolutely wrecked, his little face covered with drool and tears, his arms splayed out uselessly by his sides, his throat bulging with my cock when I thrust in. Dave looks a little more composed, but only barely. He’s close to coming, his movements getting faster and more erratic, and the noises he was trying to keep quiet are now falling from his mouth freely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">For a moment, I consider keeping him on the edge just to see how long it would take him to beg. But I’m only <strike>not quite</strike> human, and wanting to see Dave Strider come is a trait that … several of the splinters I’m made of share.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">So I just keep fucking Dirk’s throat, using his hair as a handle and trying to see how hard I can make him choke, and after just another minute, Dave’s breaths start to get choppy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“You better come inside him,” I say quickly and, if I do say so myself, with a surprising amount of composure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dave looks like he didn’t even need my prompting as his voice breaks off into a gasp and he stills, dropping down onto his elbows over Dirk as he catches his breath. Dirk makes an unintelligible sound that sends some fuckin’ great vibrations through my dick, and with that, I decide to go ahead and come too, making sure that my younger self is filled up from both ends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Once I’m certain that Dirk has swallowed down every drop of come that I pushed into his throat, I pull out and drop his hair, letting his head flop down over the side of the bed. Now that there’s not something in his mouth, I realize that he’s crying, hitching, desperate sobs that make me want to sneer with disgust and get ready for another round. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Not bad for a virgin,” I comment. “Well. Not that you are one anymore, but you know what I mean.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk turns his head away from me and keeps sobbing, the sounds wet and raw and ragged. After a long pause, Dave picks himself up, pulling out and curling in on himself as he sits up next to Dirk on the bed. He’s not crying, which I have to admit is a surprise to me, but when he looks my way, I see that he looks like he’s about to be sick. Well. Add that to the list of kinks I didn’t know I had, huh?</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Alright, well, not that this hasn’t been fun, but it’s time to wrap this shit up,” I say. “Dave, get dressed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dave doesn’t move. He’s burying his face in his folded arms now, but my narrative intuition/omniscience is kind enough to let me know that he’s sneaking peeks at the sight of his come slipping out of his little brother’s pussy. Nice, but still. I’m not in the mood to wait around for his emotional crisis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Dave,” I repeat. “Don’t make me tell you twice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“...Fine,” Dave mutters. He avoids my gaze as he slinks off of the bed and grabs his pants and shades from the floor, putting them on with shaky hands. When he’s done, he looks up in my direction. “Now what.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“Now,” I announce, pausing for dramatic effect because I’ve never claimed not to be an over the top motherfucker when I want to be, “you get to go home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">A pause. The only sound is Dirk’s sobbing until Dave says, flatly, “What do you mean.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“I mean, I’m done with you, so I’m sending you back to the flimsy excuse for a timeline that you’re from.”</span>
</p><p><span class="main">Dave wraps his arms around himself and looks over at Dirk for a second. “I … I’m just supposed to - after that?”</span> </p><p><span class="main">I arch an eyebrow. “Would you rather stay here?”</span> </p><p>
  <span class="main">Dave is silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“That’s what I thought,” I say. “I know I did you the favor of fulfilling your biggest fantasy or whatever-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“It’s not-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">“-but the other shoe can’t keep dangling forever, can it? Like I said, I’m done with you, so you’ve got … ah, let’s say two seconds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dave’s mouth straightens into a thin line. “Fine,” he says, “fine, just let me… Dirk? Dirk, I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I snap my fingers (see again: over the top motherfucker), and Dave is sent back to the small house he shares with his loving wife, left to live with the knowledge of what he did and what he’s always wanted to do, before he can finish his sentence. I know that it was going to be an apology, but now Dirk will get to spend the rest of his life wondering if it was something else - a confession, perhaps? Really, for those without an absurd wealth of knowledge, it could be anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">I let Dave’s absence sink into the room for a moment, then sit down on the bed besides Dirk. He’s not actively sobbing anymore, just making these pathetic, choked sounds in the back of his throat. “Just you and me now, huh?” I say. “Y’know, I was originally gonna toss you back too, but you’re so much more of a natural slut than I thought you would be.” </span>
</p><p><span class="main">Dirk doesn’t react to my words.</span> </p><p>
  <span class="main">“To be transparent and all that shit, these next few seconds are going to be the last chance you’re gonna have for a while to express your actual emotions, so - world’s your fuckin’ oyster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk stays silent. The only sign that he’s heard me at all is the way he turns onto his side so that he’s facing away from me. Well. At least no one can say I didn’t give him a heads-up.</span>
</p><p><span class="main">I really did originally plan on putting him back, but the fact remains that he’s fucking beautiful when he’s broken like this. Being the last, villainous bastion of canon isn’t exactly fun. I’ll take the good things as they come, y’know? Pun intended, of course.</span> </p><p>
  <span class="stupid">I’m a lot of things now, but I’ve never abandoned my identity as a Prince of Heart. As such, it’s pretty easy to sever the bonds of resistance that Dirk has to me, to <i>this</i>, leaving him devoted, pliant, and perfect. I can always put them back later if I want him to put up a fight, but for right now, the vacant worship in Dirk’s still-watery eyes as he turns back around to face me is pretty fuckin’ good.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading! &lt;3 if you wanna see more fucked up shit, my twitter is <a href="https://twitter.com/striderliker">@striderliker</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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